It’s the Most Wonderful Time Of the Year

Some have a proprietary over life.

Those are the kinds sure about doing anything in life. But, I have been sharply different

Thinking back, I was tenaciously birthed to be a prospective for some other world.

To that end , my parents had decided not to cast me in their fervent hopes.

My siblings,on the other hand, kept up the parental pride.

That is not to imply that I was eminently genius, only to bloom, later in life. In actuality, I was indisputably a “work-in-progress,” kinds.

My ingenuity was evident much early in life. My report cards were precursive in offsetting all parental traumas.

Together my parents sat in silence; sometimes even stood in silence —much after sitting agape for quite a while and wondering as to why they had birthed me. Many times they had contemplated graduating into graves, much sooner than later.

To reprove each dull delay in me,my school teacher tried different strategies to lead the way into a brighter future. Preposterously positioned, she tried seating me next to an array of geniuses; merely, in the hope that one day their brilliance would rub off on me.

And to give this matter its due, I was invariably waiting for my cogency to bloom.

Of course, I was to rise unseen (like a bat not Phoenix) after everyone’s death.

The word “posthumously,” lent quite right, towards my destiny. It paid a timely homage to those entrails casted over my life.

Furthering up details, here’s another “chest-buster-reveal,” accentuating my caliber from yesteryears.

As in loose delight, school never excited me.

During math studies, the “number system,” was enigmatic to me. The glistening shapes and sizes allotted to the same “word count” baffled me. A recurrent query thunder-bolted thro’ my brain.

“How come two objects with varied sizes —measured up to the same count?!”

Technically, I hadn’t seen the gore and was masticating beady eyed over numbers.

Furthermore, my calculations wouldn’t fit in and I doubled down to fetching zeros —even though, I meticulously tried. Thusly, at site zero, all numbers roared deafening logics for me. A sort of conveyor belt phenomena to “think of its meaning,” as continually getting synthesized to zero.

The faintest whiff of “proof questions,” in geometry tossed my reasonings into ditches. Spellbound, I was invariably shooting differential tangents.

Rarified acquaintances knew about my “star-seediness.” ‘Guess, I was meant to be the founding member of the “ watch -the world -go- by society,” quite early. So, somehow, the predicament of assimilation —with the regular ordered ways of the society, remained.

Today, a throwback into yesteryears, causes me to clutch my G’s.

Every time my mother chaperoned to fetch me, she swore to convert herself ( both gender-wise and faith-wise,) upon her return from my school. I Guess, the grills and thrills of parenting were not her forte. I knew, if ever we were to have a garage sale, I would be auctioned first.

Unmistakably, I was a specimen. Some savage gods had given me off to a “no rites-of-regular passage” destiny. Therefore, I was sent to this planet. A conception as absurd as the turn of a screw to hang me in a portrait for both—display and ridicule. I was inherently ambiguous as no sense reached my sensibilities in time.

In this way there were no great shakes in my yesterday, with no promises for a better future either.

But luck favored me once and I was married off at an early age.

Unforeseen and quite blindfolded, here was this guy who soon got the —“ Good Samaritan award,” for his courageous tenacity, gentleness and courteousness in handling my exceptionality.

In loose delight he got excited to play his part in this partnership.

But , there again, my Lady Luck 🍀 swept 🧹 over his fate. He was taken away from me. No, he didn’t die. Pathetic appeals to posterity made him think otherwise. Noble indignation made him charge against the institution of marriage. He was a born altruist and this “very deeply,”influenced his every quest.

One fine day he ran away—almost like a rioter emphasizing : Give me Liberty, or give me —death.”

His libidinous urges gravitated towards priesthood.

And herein lay our innocence to endure the eternal perdition held over our lives. Soon we parted our ways.

He turned defiant towards husbandly duties and turned to the church. The place he hailed from believed in practicing celibacy.

To them, such states promised complete bliss.

Therein—started this macaron moment — a turtle voyage, furthering my slow trod into a tedious marathon. I kept getting struck to this one thought: Will the people who wait upon their “long and lost ones,” find ultimate bliss one day.

With that hope, I started reconciling to think of my better half as a conduit ( god sent phenomena,) towards my resurrection.

So I waited upon him to return home.

A time or two, I heard plaintive noises , that he was wheeling his way back into my life but then, he went back to the place where he belonged.

And here, I was in a place where I myself didn’t know how to live. My life ( spotlight encased,) attracted many humanitarian luminaries. Often many women with their husbands volunteered to get me gainfully occupied. Ironically many employers couldn’t keep to my accounting skills. They foreclosed and ran off too.

To that, I pretended losing the sight in my second eye. Successively my “third-eye also opened when other employers also laid me off. This humiliation further crippled me. I engaged in stupors badly. My gait also took a new turn. Stammers put me on recursive gagging. Uniquely I c’d regurgitate epiglottal thrustings which exuded as rustic wailings.

Years passed and I landed up in a senior home. Literally rusticated from life. I was of no use to nobody!

Gallanting on loneliness, I longed for the warmth of the hearth (home.)

“Does one get used to destiny or can histories command prophecies in a miraculous manner,” I thought.

The worst of winters ❄️ had showed up at my door of conscience.

I guess, it was the ultimate test of time to check—me and my understandings. Unforeseen, such clever thoughts took me to the hospital for an operation. I was admitted for open heart surgery. My heart had bled and moaned for far too long. To make it worse, my subconscious was putting into grief. Parents died prematurely, husband ran off to seminary, employers absconded, and no progeny was interested in furthering my lineage. Perhaps, I was at the brink of eternity coming to me in the catechism of “forever,” being left to a void. I was zeroed to the zenith of nothingness!

Earlier, I had often thought bitterly and groaned subliminally about all the estrangement I had faced.

Reflecting so, I felt a strange ennui.

Now, between the peculiar and endowed blessings, I was being tested not so much for the nostalgia —as of, the desire to live in it.

But, time had come for me to leave. Yes, to leave this life to rejoice in the after life 😅

Next moment, I found someone hurling me through the doors 🚪 —into the operation theatre.

It must have been half past midnight when I saw an astonished face gawking at me. It was a priest calling out to say his last sermons to me.

More or less he was looking at me reverse ( upside down,) and queerly, I was heard him make his confession.

“Forgive me,father, for I have sinned.” That was his confession blurting out, in one go.

“I knew you would do this. I should have known that you would land up like this. I can’t leave you out of my sight no more,” said the priest.

Those words came scrolling out and I wondered to think of it as a lasting happiness.

Before I could say anything , the priest bent over and kissed my forehead. I felt momentarily relieved that someone cared for me.

Very soon the vapor of my imagination vanished and all that imagery took the shape of a short-lived hope.

I was unnecessarily getting tempted to listen to those silent whispers credulously pursuing eagerness in me.

To expect age to fulfill the promises of youth was like supplying condoms to an already castrated wee-wee.

And when I got time to think , I realized it was my husband confessing after so many years.

I forgave you long time back,” I blurted in a semi-REM state.

His trembling hand and my wrinkled cheeks brushed a bit .. So to speak…And excited by the vain in our sparing seeks, the church bells rang —somehow—from nowhere. Momentarily everything was naturally flowing like this festive twittering of the eaves.

But, gobbling through came stand still. Ironically, it was inducing me to an eternal sleep. Hurriedly, I was being steered to a heaven. This gave a roar out of my soul. It reminded me that I had learnt to ask for nothing, pushing emotions to zero; much like buried into oblivion. Covertly I was more stunned than awfully shaken.

Then suddenly everything turned pitch dark and I couldn’t see anything. In the dark , my mind got mixed up and all my intentions left. I found myself before a vast expanse of time and space. The grace of the bliss attracted me immensely.

I must have dozed off,” I thought to myself.

Then, something happened. I lost my voice. But then again, I slammed back to senses.

An obscurity casted its spell on me,

Following that, I was on the other side of this cajoling crisis. From that point onwards I woke up to this —nice Christmasy landscape.

The place was just round the corner from the hospital, aside in the shades of a dense vegetation.

The winds were blowing among the pines and cedars, and snow ❄️ started trickling down.

I remember everything binding one to the other. It was Christmas.

I and Santa 🤶 🎄 🎅 were home.

Now don’t ask : Who is Santa ?!

Just keep guessing !